The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1887-04-22

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| Mr.. Pennington was bald man. 1t
amused me to trace the line at which his
wrihkled forehead ended and the skinny
smoothness began. It amused me, also, to
see teaspoon and sundry bottles of dyspep-
STA remedies on his desk. He touched the
manuscript nervously, made deep burrows of
distress all across that seamy forehead, and
in beseeching, fretful tone said
Really, II don't know what to-what
to do with it"
s'Read it and then publish il" answered
promptly and cheerfully."
Mr.. Pennington looked thoroughly miser-
able as indicating the unpleasant familiar he
said: 'aThe reading is done by Mr.. Bell,
and then put the manuscript into his hands.
"But, really, young man. he continued,
s'you ought to be at better work than book
making. It's a vice.
Laughing outright, / said: Somebody
has to write 'ene.''
"But everybody writes 'em, +" said Penning-
ton that the trouble. How old are your
''Twenty-two Name, Nelson Floyd
ssPityr he exclaimed softly; and gave
nod in my direction and went on with his
letter writing. Taking this for publishers
polite dismissal, walked out. Passing
Bell at his desk scowled at his back cranial
development and noted that it was particu-
larly faulty.
Ned Russell, my chum, admirer and good
friend was waiting on the stairs. Ned was
| twenty-one, had very small means and
very large faculty for friendship. On my
arrival in New York, just year before,
fresh from college, he had heartily sup
ported me in the opinion that book-a
great book, "a stunning book" as he
| phrased it, would be my only fit introduction
| to fame and fortune Ned had smoked
away many hours beside ny desk in reyer-
entail silence, and his opinions were certainly
| delightful. What came short of impressing
him as wonderful" or dramatic and
deucedly touching made him shake his
head, lock very solemn, take out his pipe
and calculate; deep, by Georgei Nelse,
that's deep profound"
Well, there outside stood Ned, all excite
ment, hope and fidelity. told him Of the
fdgety, uncomfortable publisher, and then 1
described Bell, the clerk, his averted eyes
and dark face. Ned's own frank counten-
ance flushed with interest and anxiety, and
he formed conclusion at once.
THAT fellows sneak-a sneak and a
scamp Look out for him, old chappy.
Now strike while the irons hot and polish
off the second vol" Ned had mercantile
fashion Of using authorizations. "Tll sit by,''
he added cheerfully, while you twistify
that political plot and bring the cardinal up
with round turn in the end"
Sit by he did, every evening, in sort of
enthusiastic hush, and at last, after six
4 ha Iosx :.
hat and deity catching it: ''Vol. two done.
Hurrahl" Ned insisted upon carrying the
precious parcel in his own hands, only de
livering it over to me at the threshold of
Pennington's outer office. AS passed Bell
his head was leaning on his hand, and
hardly glancing up he made me what Ned,
observing from the hallway designated as
"sneaking hang-dog sort of bow"
/ The second volume of The Dukes Re
venge,' said to Mr.. Pennington, holding
out the bulky roll.
His forehead amused me more than ever
| 1t wrinkled up like piece of Grape as he
stammered:
sYe-ye- yes, but--you see, the first part
has been read and it's of no use-no use at
| all. I'll try to tell you why. Many faults
in writing may be, under proper criticism,
quickly atoned; but your work is crude, and
crudity can be overcome only by years of
hard experience. Here Bell bring that first
part" Bell came softly and laid the first in
stallment of manuscript on the desk beside
the second "You can't understand me"
Pennington went on looking the picture Of
woe, because" and he drew deep sigh,
because you are crude, too" and he added
deliberately, with marked emphasis, "a
very crude young man."
ssThen there's no chance for the book?' l
asked, trying to keep a steady voice.
He glanced up must have looked very
boyish, for was beardless and slim, and
had mobile, eager face. He slowly shook
his head.
Just then saw there was another person
in the room, young girl school girl, she
seemed, with long braids of fair hair hanging
to her waist, and childish face with childish
blue eyes. With that second self, that other
consciousness which can be busy over trifles
when the everyday faculties are absorbed by
some great perplexity, took note of her
while asked Of Mr.. Pennington
won't you give my book your personal
attention."
ssBless me- p Pennington exclaimed, fresh
ening up with surprise. "Why you-you
seem to know nothing about the rules of
Il publishing houses
"Well,' urged with emphasis, II am
sure the work only needs fair and impartial
consideration
"Oh, answered the publisher, ''you think
the people who risk their money in putting
out books are governed by personal preju-
diees2 Yes al young writers think So Il
showed yon our accounts and proved that
good work brings gain and bad work brings
lase 10u would S.ilI believe We hAd some